The House Elves Strike Back
by ClaireBear1982
Summary: Set during Deathly Hallows. Dobby and Kreacher paint the town red. WARNING: This story was written for comedic purposes only, is slightly AU'ish. No flames or arrows as this is only for fun! Written by my dear, dear friend Gavin. Rated 'T' for copious amounts of swearing.


A/N: Written for Quidditch League Competition, finals round 1. All accreditation goes to my dear, dear friend Gavin who wrote this on my behalf. It's meant in a comedic way, so please no flames or arrows, this is purely a work of fun! I hope you laugh as much as I did!

Part one- forced Alignments.

After their initial meeting at the Orders' HQ, Dobby and Kreacher were thrown into each others' company. Much to their obvious displeasure. (which was voiced repeatedly on both sides; only Dobby was the only one to be heard, largely due to Kreachers' refusal to " desecrate the good name of his beloved mistress by associating with filthy half blood scum, and the mudblood")

"Harry Potter must help poor Dobby sir; this disgrace to House- Elf kind is simply unbearable!" Dobby raged.

Harry rolled his eyes. They were all sick and tired of hearing it all by now.

"Dobby; Look I REALLY don't have time to listen to you and Kreacher bickering like kids! Solve this yourselves: FOR ALL OF OUR SAKES!"

Dobby stood rooted to the spot. He searched for something to say that would steer the conversation his way, but by the time it came to him it was too late. As Dobby skulked out of Harry's room, he ran straight into Hermione.

"Hi Dobby," she smiled, gently giving his arm a little rub.

"Oh hello miss," Dobby smiled up at her warm face: She was almost as kind as Harry, and secretly, he kind of had the equivalent a crush on her, for a Muggle wizard.

Hermione quickly realised that stopping to say hello was a bad move. Almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

'How are you?' left her lips; Dobby wasted no time in regaling her with yet more stories about his unwanted room mate. She stood praying that Ron or Harry would show up to give her an excuse to get out of having to listen to any more. No such luck. Twenty minutes of sobbing, wailing and wiping his nose on his clothes later; he finally stopped. He was gazing at her with his doleful, watery eyes waiting for more of her kind words and that she would talk to the others and make them move kreacher.

Hermione by this point was virtually comatose. Her eyes had glazed over, and she was running through spells in her head to stop herself falling asleep. Realising that he had finally stopped talking, she took her chance to run away, and said as gently as she could manage

"Look, if we have differences, we settle them by talking through our problems. Maybe you should try and teach him that wizards are good people, and maybe he will change his attitude."

Before Dobby had the chance to open his mouth in response, she virtually sprinted from the room.

It occurred him that nobody was going to do anything to help. Feeling very disgruntled, He trundled down towards his sleeping quarters. He opened the door and felt that familiar cold shiver run down his spine as yet again, he was nose to nose with Kreacher.

"Can I not get away from you for one day?!" Dobby yelled.

"You are a disgrace to us House- Elves! Associating with scum; those filthy half blood brats!" Kreacher yelled back.

"Associating with these Filthy half blood scum in..." he didn't get to finish.

Dobby's hand had moved quick as a flash and thrown a magical iron grid complete with holding studs over his mouth, and rained punches down on him.

Kreacher managed to break free enough to launch a little assualt of his own. He waited till Dobby was upright, and Conjured one of Sirius' bowling balls from the shelf above. He slighted his hand, and zoom! The bowling ball took flight.. being intercepted by poor Dobby's nether regions. A right hook caught him in the cheek as he was doubling over. His eyes struggled to regain focus as he slowly got back to his feet.

"No one speaks ill of Harry Potter and his friends in my presence!"

Zoom! He had ripped the oak fireplace out of the wall and launched it at Kreacher Butt- end first. The solid beam hit him right in the chest, and pinned him to the adjacent wall.

Both Elves collapsed in a heap on the floor. They glowered at each other venomously as they attended their own wounds.

"This cannot go on " Kreacher drawled after the twentieth agonising minute of silence. "If we don't stop this we will both be thrown out of here," he continued.

Dobby let up with the glaring as the realisation of his words hit him. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew the bile- spewing wart was right.

"Why should you care?! you call them terrible names, constantly put dead animals in their beds, and steal from them!"

Kreacher averted his eyes; partly in thought. After a few minutes, he reluctantly spoke.

"Ever since I attended Kurgs' House- Elves school, I have wanted nothing, but to serve. My beloved mistress took poor Kreacher in to her home, and graciously allowed me the honour of serving her. Kreacher is loyal to the house of Black... this is my home."

Part two- Dobby's bargain plea.

Dobby sat rooted to the spot. The revelation that Kreacher had been at the same servant school as him shook him enough, but seeing a softer side to Kreacher was plain frightening. He knew he had to say something, but couldn't think of something that didn't involve Telling him exactly what he thought of him. Just as he was about to open his mouth, Hermione's words popped in his head.

"Kreacher, I went to the same House-Elves school as you; and as a sworn brother of the fraternity, it is my duty to help you."

Kreachers' cold, dark eyes widened. He lifted his right hand, and looked solemnly at Dobby. At this signal, Dobby's left hand raised instinctively, and their fingers locked together. With their free hands, they poked each others' right eye, followed by a stamp on the foot while chanting.

"Kurgs is the best, of all the rest, if you mess with us, we'll rip off yer ' eads," once their little ceremony was over, they sat back down.

The two Elves stared at each other. There was suddenly a new level of respect between them; This in itself was a rarerity for Kreacher: He had never had an ounce of respect for anyone other than his beloved mistress.

Kreacher was the first to break the what was becoming a lengthy silence. "So how does Dobby suggest we resolve this?,"

Dobby sat and thought for a moment. He had no idea where to begin with the whole thing: How do you turn someone of pure venomous hatred into a decent being? Then an idea came to him.

"Kreacher, Dobby is going to take you on a journey. Dobby will show you that Muggles and Half- bloods can be just as good,"

Kreacher immediately looked both horrified and sceptical. The cold darkness flooded back over his demeanour.

"Must you?," asked Kreacher.

Dobby smiled encouragingly and nodded.

"Trust Dobby, you will see."

The very thought of being surrounded by what he considered to be the worst dregs of society sent a chill down his spine; but Kreacher knew he had no option but to try. He sighed audibly as he resigned himself to Dobbys' mercy.

"How does this begin?"

Dobby jumped to his feet excitedly, and practically dragged kreacher towards the door. He practically frog- marched him to Sirius' room and began rummaging through his wardrobe. He pulled out two outfits and threw one at Kreacher.

"We will disguise ourselves as Muggles, and go to the city of London!"

"Dobby cannot be serious?!" exclaimed the reluctant elf.

"Kreacher promised that he would let Dobby help him, and do as I say!"

After a few muttered obscenities under his breath, Kreacher had donned the outfit. they then charmed themselves to look like humans, and headed over to the fire place. The pair then looked at themselves in the mirror to check the final results. After many minutes of hysterical laughter at what stared back at them, they were finally ready to depart.

"Dobby looks ridiculous! And even more ugly than before," tittered Kreacher, wiping tears of laughter away.

"Kreacher doesn't look too great himself!" Dobby retorted as he tried to compose himself.

To the human eye, they were two fine looking gentlemen: something that would lead to trouble.

The two elves placed a hand each on the grotesque Toby jug Sirius used as a port key, and whoosh! They were on their way.

They arrived outside Londons' famous "Kings Cross train station" and were taken aback at just how many muggles there were, and how rude and pushy they appeared; Within that first minute, Dobby had been elbowed in the ribs twice, and had a luggage trolley run over his foot. Kreacher wasn't fairing much better: three shoulder barges, two elbows to the ribs, and nearly knocked over by an out of control trolley- Dolly ( who was running ten minutes late for her shift.)

Dobby grabbed Kreacher by the arm, and dragged him out of harms way.

"Kreacher is now almost positive that Dobby will NOT convince him of anything!, " gasped the very disgruntled elf, as he nursed his now very sore shoulder.

"Okay, so Dobby did not know it lead here, " he pleaded, imploringly whilst tending bruises of his own.

"Besides: Now we are here, Kreacher cannot turn back; as he needs Dobby to get back" he added smugly.

Kreacher wanted nothing more than to wrap his hands around Dobbys' throat and strangle the life out of him. His urge to Jinx him was just as strong; The only thing that stopped him was knowing that he was right.

Dobby then smiled, and started to walk towards the exit. Kreacher reluctantly followed him, while silently praying for it to be over.

They found themselves out on the main high street, which wasn't much better than the train station.

Thousands of muggles were hustling and bustling about, huge red mechanical monsters kept stopping near them and hissing loudly ( which scared the shit outta both of em; not that they would admit it to one another, but the very fact that they started holding hands gave it away- raising the eyebrows of the passers-by, who were not accustomed to seeing such brazen displays of affection between two men. )

Unbeknownst to the foolish duo, they were already arousing unwanted attention. Two beat Bobbies had clocked them, and were starting to follow them. Kreacher realised that they were being watched.

"Hmmmmm we seem to have company, " he said, gesturing towards the opposite side of the street at them. Dobby instantly began to feel very paranoid.

"We must get to a less busy place, and lose them," he whispered.

An answer presented them in the form of " The Weary Traveller " - conveniently tucked in the entrance of a rather dank looking back alley. The shaken Elves made a bee- line for the door.

To ensure they " lost " their pursuers, Kreacher turned and discreetly slighted his hand. The two coppers were now walking vertically- and each step or leg movement meant another few inches off the ground. That was mistake number one. Okay, noone had seen him do it; but he made the critical error of using magic in the presence of muggles ( in panic forgetting that the ministry monitor all magical activity; which would inadvertently draw VERY UNWANTED attention to their presence, and identities. )

Slipping inside discreetly, Kreachers heart almost stopped. He was surrounded by humans, and in a confined space which made it seem far worse.

He caught up to Dobby, who had made his way to the bar, trying to blend in with the rest of the humans.

They listened and watched the humans for a few moments to find out exactly what they were supposed to do here. They appeared to be giving a lady stood in an enclosure in the centre of the room paper, and she was handing them glass things with liquid in them, which they seemed to drink.

The Barmaid finally had made her way towards them "What'll it be lads?"

Dobby had heard a man ask for two glasses of a liquid called "Fosters". The woman had appeared to know what it was, so it seemed to be the right thing to say.

"Two pints... of... Fosters... please?" He enquired nervously, trying to sound as unlike himself as possible.

The girl smiled at him, and went off to prepare their drinks.

Kreacher was surveying the room, disgusted by everything he saw.

"These lowlife scum. Mistress would have burned them all if she was here; seeing poor Kreacher like this."

Dobby looked at him sharply.

"Don't speak so loudly, especially not like that!"

The Barmaid was now back, and wanted something called "money."

Kreacher quickly realised that it must be the paper they had seen others giving her. Yet again, a slight of his hand, and some poor guys' wallet discreetly flew off the adjacent end of the bar and into his hand. He opened it and took out one sheet of this paper, and handed it to her without a word, praying she would be satisfied and go away. It seemed to work.

Picking up the two glasses, they move away from the bar, looking for a quiet inconspicuous place to sit down, so they could at least speak. Dobby spotted a table in the corner and gestured towards it. They sidled towards it, avoiding contact with people where possible.

Sitting down, the pair silently surveyed their surroundings. Dobby had been in the muggle world many times: Lucius Malfoy, his old master, had always dragged him along while he had done " so- called " Errands on behalf of the Ministry. ( alright, granted he had spent most of those times locked inside Malfoy's trunk ; but while his master back was turned, he would sneak off and do a little exploring.)

Part three- the lesson begins.

Back at Grimmauld place, things were blissfully peaceful. No bitching, whining, no objects being hurled, or curses thrown. Nobody had even noticed that the misguided Elves were nowhere to be seen: They were too busy making the most of the peace, whilst planning their next move.

"Right, so we leave tomorrow morning then," mumbled Ron.

"What was that?" asked Hermione a look of incredulousness and disgust on her face: as much as she loved him, watching him trying to talk with a whole sausage roll crammed in his mouth, and spraying the table with crumbs as he spoke was somewhat off-putting.

"He said so we leave tomorrow morning," interjected Harry, not wishing to see any more of the contents of Ron's mouth.

They all went off to make preparations, blissfully unaware of the huge impending shit- storm that was becoming almost imminent.

Back at the Weary Traveller, Dobby and Kreacher had decided to brave drinking the liquid in front of them, and so begins mistake number two: Never give House- Elves alcohol.

The first mouthful had caused them both to splutter uncontrollably for a few moments, but it didn't taste all that bad; in fact, Kreacher liked the way it fizzed in his mouth. So they both kept drinking till it was all gone. Having developed a taste for this "Fosters" Kreacher went and got two more.

"See how they all laugh and joke with each other?" said Dobby, who was now swaying in his chair slightly, as the beer hit his sytem.

"It's just like Harry potter and his friends: they are kind to each other, and seem nice to each other," he went on.

Kreacher by this point was starting to titter and giggle to himself: the booze had hit him like a steam train. "They are still ugly gits," he replied, which caused them to lapse into hysterics.

Dobby decided it was time for another drink. However, as he attempted to stand up, he found that suddenly, he had lost partial control of his legs. One foot went into place quite nicely, the other however, did not seem to want to cooperate. He fell arse over tit, crashing onto the table behind him.

Had the table been empty, this may not have been to catastrophic: But on this occasion, they happened to be a couple sat there. Glasses had been sent flying, and the man had woman had been doused in beer. What didn't help matters was Kreacher breaking into another raucous bout of hysterical laughter; partially at the sight of an inebriated Dobby sprawled out in a mess off glass and wood, and partly at the beer soaked muggles.

"WANKER!," the rest of the pub shouted in unison; a usual Brittish greeting for any kind of breakage or accident in a bar or restaurant.

"WANKER!" repeated Kreature, pointing at the mess in front of him.

"I'LL GIVE YOU WANKER, YOU TOSSER!" the beer soaked man yelled, launching himself at Kreacher.

He grabbed Kreacher, and head- butted him, as his wife stood there, humiliated, beer soaked, and bawling her eyes out.

Kreacher had never experienced anything like it; the pain was unbelievable. He stumbled backwards, rubbing his head furiously while allowing his eyes to refocus.

Before Kreacher could think about retaliating; the man's trousers were round his ankles, He was upside down, and having his arse whooped by a levitating over sized skillet pan that had been hung on the wall as an ornament.

Dobby had now risen to his feet. He was drunk, hurt, and pissed to see a Muggle harming his new friend. His eyes were fixed firmly on the skillet pan. Each movement of his eyes caused the skillet pan to crash down across the now hysterical mans' backside.

Kreacher was stood there laughing hysterically. It was one of the funniest things he had had the pleasure of witnessing; however, he didn't want Dobbyhaving all the fun.

"My turn Dobby!" he yelled, taking control of the pan.

Dobby expected him to continue with the spanking... Kreacher had other ideas.

He gestured towards his victims' underwear, and down it came. ( adding to the shrieks and gasps of the stunned spectators ) He slowly turned the skillet pan around, and slowly inched it towards the poor guys' exposed touche.

"Kreacher will make sure you serve a use to the world, Mudblood!" he yelled, as the long handle began disappearing in between his buttocks.

Amongst the mans' screams of pain, the gasps, shrieks, Dobby's hysterical laughter, The wife's hysterical crying, the racket from the pub was unbelievable. Nobody dared to intervene: This poor guy was getting a proctology exam with the business- end of that bloody great big pan, and nobody was touching him.

After five more minutes of laughter, they decided he had had enough. Skillet pan still firmly in place, Kreacher ceremoniously dropped they dropped the poor guy head first on to the floor, and left the pub.

The two mischievous Elves had no idea what they had just done... One of the locals had slipped out of the pub unseen, and called in the police.

The drunken duo turned the corner, and found three squad cars, and six coppers walking towards them, with handcuffs at the ready.

"You two are under arrest for ass..." the sentence never got finished. After seeing Dobby pants the guy in the pub, Kreacher wanted the honour this time. His hand slighted, and all three pairs of slacks were on the ground, sending the officers sprawling in all directions.

"WANKERS!" yelled a drunken Dobby as they stumbled away as quick as they could. To ensure a clean getaway, they apparated to the top of of a building round the corner, still laughing about the whole thing.

All sense of a quiet exit was now completely out of the question. Kreacher was having way too much fun: not satisfied with pantsing the coppers, he decides their car needs some attention too. He has spotted a fireworks store opposite, and apparates down. He grabs twelve of the most dangerous looking ones, and rejoins Dobby.

"Some each Dobby old friend?" he offers as he hands Dobby six rockets. Between them, they float down the rockets, inserting three into the exhaust pipe of the car, and tying one each to the utility belts of the unsuspecting cops.

Dobby clicks his fingers, and the three rockets in the exhaust ignite. The noise, and resulting light show inside the car was pretty impressive by anyone's standards, but the light show was not over yet.

It was Kreachers turn now. He hoisted himself up, dropped his slacks and moonied over the edge of the roof to get the attention of the enraged officers, and waited for them to start running towards the building. As soon as they were within a foot, he flicked his hand, and the rockets on their belts ignited.

The three cops were desperately wrestling to get their belts off as one by one, the rockets attempted to take flight. The sparks emitted by the " star streamer " rockets lit up the now darkening sky. All three coppers were literally hopping around as the gun powder set light to their slacks, leaving third degree singes on their asses.

The two Elves collapsed down on the roof top absolutely crying with laughter, blissfully unaware the shit they were in.


End file.
